


Looking

by captainhurricane



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Trevelyan looks when Dorian isn't looking. Or is it the other way around?





	Looking

**Author's Note:**

> based on the prompt: “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”
> 
> beautifully illustrated by the lovely [yumikoyuki](https://yumikoyukiart.tumblr.com/)

It had started the instant one Dorian Pavus had joined the Inquisition. Now, Trevelyan is a smart fellow and his eyes do not stray so much usually- but somehow his steps constantly take him up to the library to find Dorian. Just to talk. It’s good of the Inquisitor to know his subjects and companions, is it not? 

If only it was only that.

If only it wasn’t also the fact that Trevelyan finds himself insisting that they must share a tent on their trips. If only it wasn’t the fact that Trevelyan’s eyes keep straying towards Dorian during important, big meetings and finding Dorian wherever he goes. Of course Trevelyan doesn’t look when Dorian looks. That would be presumptuous. 

So Dorian has not noticed this constant staring, right? 

Trevelyan has climbed up to Dorian’s floor once more on this warm, warm day, hands in his pocket, chewing his lip, only to find the entire floor empty save for a couple of servants and foot soldiers.   
“Inquisitor,” they murmur when they spot him. Trevelyan nods absent-mindedly. He doesn’t ask where Dorian is, instead heads to the chair Dorian usually occupies, sitting on it like it was a throne. It’s empty. Trevelyan’s shoulders fall. 

Then someone clears their throat behind him.

“By the Maker!” Trevelyan flinches and turns to face Dorian Pavus himself, his beautiful arms crossed and one elegant eyebrow lifted, leaning against the bookshelf. 

“I think it’s time we had a little chat, dear Inquisitor,” Dorian says, his voice low. 

Trevelyan sighs. “Yes?” 

A smile is tickling Dorian’s lips. “I see it. I see the way you look at me when you think I am not looking, Inquisitor.” 

Trevelyan’s shoulders stiffen again. He swallows. Oh Maker. He’s noticed. Of course he’s noticed. I’ve been obvious. Is he disgusted? Should I grovel? 

“And you know what? I am, actually, kind of flattered. Why would you not be looking?” Dorian shrugs and saunters closer, effectively trapping Trevelyan between Dorian’s chair and Dorian himself, without even touching him. “I mean, look at me. Of course, you have already done so. Quite a lot, I might add.” 

Trevelyan groans. “I apologize.” 

“Why? I did not say I mind it,” Dorian says, voice now sweet. His clever, clever fingers that can destroy enemies with one flash of magic, are now reaching to touch Trevelyan’s bicep. Oh Maker. Why did I wear this shirt today. My arms are bare. Oh Maker. 

“You… you don’t?”

Dorian smirks. He squeezes Trevelyan’s bicep and urges Trevelyan backwards until the backs of his knees hit the chair. “My dearest Inquisitor. I have most definitely been looking at you too.” 


End file.
